


living love in slow motion

by starwells



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwells/pseuds/starwells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going to kill you,” Sehun says flatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	living love in slow motion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 round of [Xiuhunation](http://xiuhunation.livejournal.com/), finally crossposting half a year later. Shout-out to Jenn for being a star ★
> 
>    
> For the prompt: "Upon rushing to the hospital when he received a text saying his brother got into an awful accident, Sehun found out that the accident was not awful at all. He also found out that the doctor attending to his brother's awful injuries is none-other-than Kim Minseok, the person Sehun had a huge crush on when he was younger."

“I’m going to kill you,” Sehun says flatly.

“Good luck,” Lu Han says. “We’re in a hospital right now. No matter where I am in this place, I’ll always be less than fifteen seconds away from emergency medical care.” He smiles sunnily. There’s a white bandage stuck on Lu Han’s hairline, and underneath, Sehun can imagine the line of stitches there, red and irritated, a result of Lu Han slamming his head into a low-hanging branch in a desperate attempt to steal the soccer ball back for his team.

“Only you would actually run into a tree and then manage to get a concussion from it,” Sehun grumbles.

The text he’d gotten from Lu Han’s number was terrifying; it had just been a simple I’m at the hospital. Come now, and Sehun, awoken from a peaceful nap, had rushed out the door, pulling on any clothes he could get his hands on, still half-asleep.

Sehun really needs to have a talk with Joonmyun about cleaning up after himself, because somehow, Joonmyun’s mess has migrated of its own accord across the living room into Sehun’s room; for example, the shirt Sehun’s wearing--grabbed in a panic off the chair in his bedroom--is two sizes too small, stretching uncomfortably over Sehun’s broad chest and making it difficult for him to breathe without feeling like he’s going to rip the shirt clean in half.

“I don’t have a concussion,” Lu Han says, petulant tone completely out of place in a twenty-six year old’s mouth. “The doctor just said I might be in danger of having one, but, and I quote, ‘your head is pretty damn hard, so I don’t think it’ll be a big deal.’”

Sehun blinks. “What kind of doctor says that to a patient?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Not that they’re wrong, but.”

“The kind of doctor who’s had to patch up your family too often,” says an all too familiar voice. Sehun whacks his hip off the counter he’d been leaning on as he whirls around to look at the doctor who’d treated his brother.

Minseok smiles guilelessly at him, his photo ID clipped haphazardly on the collar of his plain t-shirt, and suddenly, Sehun is eighteen and awkward again, standing in the middle of his kitchen back home at midnight, the lights dim and warm in the middle of a quiet house. If he really tries, Sehun can even see the twenty-two year old Minseok standing across from him, the lamplight casting a muted shadow over his face.

Sehun blinks to clear away the image, and Minseok--twenty-six year old, apparently a doctor, Minseok--comes back into focus. He looks almost exactly the same: sharp chin, big eyes, teeth that press slightly into his lower lip as he smiles. His hair is darker now, shorter, but it suits him.

“Hi Sehunnie,” Minseok says. His eyes flicker downwards, and then back up so quickly Sehun’s not sure if he didn’t just blink. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Of all the scenarios Sehun had let himself imagine about meeting Minseok again, this had not been one of them. Sehun had imagined himself wildly successful, moderately famous, and suave enough to pretend that he’d forgotten all about that summer night and the way Minseok’s mouth had been flat and unresponsive under his.

Wearing his flatmate’s tiny gray t-shirt and having bedhead had not been part of the plan, and yet. Here he is, in all of his “just rolled out of bed” glory.

Sehun’s really going to kill Lu Han.

 

 

It starts when Sehun is seven, when Lu Han goes off to his new school, wide-eyed and terrified, and comes back with a brand new friend.

“Minseok,” this new friend introduces himself. Minseok has dark hair and a round, kind face. He smiles nervously, and Sehun doesn’t know if he likes him or not; Lu Han has been Sehun’s primary playmate over the summer, mostly because Lu Han doesn’t know anyone else, and it’s easier to walk to Lu Han’s room than Jongin’s down the street, and Sehun doesn’t like to share.

“This is my brother,” Lu Han says, reaching out for Sehun’s hand. Sehun takes it and stares unerringly at Minseok; he looks like the kind of person who would be intimidated by that kind of thing. “Sehunnie.”

“Sehun,” Sehun corrects waspishly. “My name is Sehun.” He blushes a little, because he knows his tongue trips over his own name, and there are a lot of kids at school who like to make fun of him for it. He glares defiantly at Minseok, daring him to say something about it; eleven year old boys aren’t necessarily known for their tact.

“Sehun,” Minseok repeats, and even though Minseok’s only a little bit taller than Sehun, he still crouches down in front of Sehun, arms wrapped around his knees. Sehun nearly takes a step back, but Lu Han’s sweaty hand anchors him, holds him in place. Please like him, Sehun can practically hear Lu Han beg. Minseok has very large, dark eyes--pretty like the idols Sehun sees on TV.

“You can call me hyung, if you want,” Minseok says. He smiles then, and his gums show. It’s a nice smile; Sehun likes that Minseok doesn’t hide it behind a hand, like Lu Han does, because he thinks people look so much better when they smile.

Sehun doesn’t like sharing, but he could make an exception.

“Minseok-hyung,” Sehun mumbles, and Minseok beams even more brightly, patting Sehun on the head. His hand is a comforting weight, and Sehun touches the crown of his head after Lu Han and Minseok bustle away to Lu Han’s room, talking about soccer or something. He can still feel the faintest pressure of Minseok’s hand.

 

 

Lu Han is discharged with instructions to avoid strenuous activity for a while (“Yes, Lu Han, that means soccer,”) and Minseok bustles off to finish paperwork, shooing them away but inviting them for drinks next weekend. “My treat,” Minseok says, grinning.

Sehun’s heart gives a painful squeeze--Minseok still has the nicest smile--but he quickly tamps it down. It’s been four years since that night and a whole year since Sehun decided to close that chapter in his life; he’d put his feelings for Minseok in a box and shoved it into the tiniest dusty corner of his heart and never looked back.

(Or at least, that’s what he likes to tell himself.)

It’s a bad idea to say yes, but then Lu Han is jumping on the idea of drinks and accepting for the both of them, crowing about drinking his fill, as if Lu Han’s fill isn’t two shots of tequila and a few beers. Before Sehun knows it, Minseok is keying in his new phone number into Sehun’s phone.

“I might be busy next weekend,” Sehun hedges. And if he isn’t, he will be shortly. Maybe Zitao can unattach his mouth from Joonmyun’s long enough to remember he was Sehun’s best friend first. “I might have dance classes to teach, you know.” Sehun makes a complicated motion with his hand, as if to demonstrate how positively booked his weekend life is.

Lu Han raises an eyebrow. “Really,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “Because Jongin said you made a huge deal about how you managed to get weekends off this month.”

Leave it to Jongin to rat him out; this is precisely why they say never to mix work and personal life--wait. “Since when have you been talking to Jongin?” Sehun asks, and Lu Han waves a hand dismissively.

“Not important. Stop deflecting.” Okay, yes, true, Sehun had been deflecting, but Sehun still spares a smirk for the pink tinge in Lu Han’s face. “Come out to drinks with us,” Lu Han insists.

“It could be a good chance to catch up,” Minseok adds, and the little hopeful lilt in his voice makes the rest of Sehun’s resolve crumble into dust.

“Alright,” Sehun says, shoving his hands into his pockets and regretting his life choices when the t-shirt bundles uncomfortably under his armpits. “I’ll be there.”

 

 

Sehun regrets all his life choices, especially the one where he agreed to go drinking with his brother, despite knowing casual drinks with Lu Han can turn into taking shots at a club at the drop of a hat.

“You’re a terrible influence,” Sehun says, or tries to say. His mouth is still a little numb from the tequila he’d just downed after he witnessed Minseok’s body rolls on the dance floor. “Terrible. Teeerriblee.”

“Who’re you talking to?” It’s Minseok. Sehun would know that voice anywhere, and he turns to peer at Minseok. He’s kind of wavering a bit, or maybe it’s Sehun’s eyes that won’t focus. He squints at him.

“Lu Han-hyung, who else?”

Minseok laughs. “Lu Han’s over there,” he says, pointing. It takes Sehun a second to understand what he’s seeing, and he lethargically follows Minseok’s finger.

That’s Lu Han, alright, and the person he’s dancing with--is that Jongin?

“Oh my God, no,” Sehun moans pathetically, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, I’m not drunk enough for this. No. No, no. No.”

“Wow, how do you really feel?” Minseok asks, and Sehun slits one eye open to glare at Minseok’s stupidly endearing smile. 

“Kim Jongin,” Minseok says slowly, as if trying to remember. “He was in school with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “He’s my best friend--well, ex-best friend now, I’m going to have to excommunicate him for this.”

“Not sure that’s the right word, but I get the idea,” Minseok says. He fiddles with his glass of water, and Sehun blinks blearily at it.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Sehun asks. Minseok had begged off drinks at the club, citing the two beers he’d already had before at the bar; meanwhile, Sehun had jumped at the opportunity for harder liquor--a decision he was already kind of regretting. It made focusing on Minseok’s eyes and not his mouth that much harder.

“I don’t really drink,” Minseok says. “Empty calories, you know. Plus, I don’t like feeling too out of control. Two or three drinks is my limit. I don’t want to do things I regret.”

Sehun’s ears burn, and not just from the alcohol. He’d been drinking the night he kissed Minseok; it was the end of the year, and he’d stolen some of Lu Han’s stuff to share with some of the guys from the dance team. They hadn’t really drunk a ton of stuff, but their terrible tolerances meant they didn’t need much.

“You don’t have to be drunk to do things you regret,” Sehun says, and Minseok looks at him, right in the eyes. They’re shining in the strobe lighting of the club, the music a dull bassline in Sehun’s ears.

“No,” Minseok agrees. “I know.”

Suddenly, the club is too hot for Sehun. It’s like all of a sudden, he can feel the humidity of a collective mass of bodies pressing in on him at all sides, and he reels backwards, nearly falls over. Minseok manages to catch him by the wrist to steady him; his hand is warm and sweaty, and Sehun snatches his hand back like he’s been burned. He doesn’t miss the wounded look that flashes over Minseok’s face.

“I need some air,” Sehun announces.

“I’ll come with you,” Minseok says, sliding off his chair. “It’s getting harder to breathe here.”

When they finally make it outside, the cold air hits Sehun like a slap in the face, but he welcomes it all the same. It’s still late spring, and it’s still a bit chilly at night, but Sehun’s got a warm haze of alcohol as a blanket. All he does is stand there and breathe, pushing back his sweaty bangs in an attempt to sober up, the silence settling around, broken only by the muffled hum of the music from inside the club.

Minseok’s stood next to him, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Then: “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Sehun glances over at him and shakes his head. Minseok pulls out a carton of cigarettes and shakes one out, putting it between his teeth. The lighter flame casts a brief, warm glow over Minseok’s face as he flicks it on and curls his hand over the flame protectively. Sehun finds himself fascinated by the play of light over Minseok’s features. 

“You smoke?” Sehun asks.

“It’s a habit I picked up in the military,” Minseok says, blowing the smoke over his shoulder, away from Sehun’s face. “But I don’t smoke that often. Just when I’m stressed out, or nervous.”

“So what’s making you nervous now?” Sehun asks.

Minseok looks levelly at Sehun, then brings the cigarette to his lips, taking a breath and then blowing out the smoke. Sehun swears he sees Minseok’s eyes drop to his mouth.

“Guess,” Minseok finally says.

 

 

(Sehun’s not sure what comes over him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the knowledge that Sehun’s finally done with high school, maybe it’s the way Minseok smiles at him, gummy and wide. His face is narrower than Sehun remembers from spring break, and he still has dark circles under his eyes from his finals--organic chemistry, Sehun remembers--but his hair is sticking up in the back and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie with shorts on underneath, and he still looks so soft and right in Sehun’s kitchen.

“Having fun?” Minseok asks. He’s holding a mug of tea in his hand. “I saw you guys carry down a few bottles. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell Lu Han.”

“Thanks,” Sehun says. His mouth suddenly is very dry. “I owe you one.”

Minseok grins, big and teasing. Sehun wants to kiss him so badly. “Bad idea, Sehunnie. I always call in favors.”

“Hmm,” Sehun says noncommittally, trying to rein in his breathing so he doesn’t give it away too soon. He’d promised himself; the end of this year, after he turned eighteen. So Minseok could see him like a real adult. 

“Hey, hyung?” Sehun says. Minseok hmms questioningly, somehow oblivious to the fact that Sehun’s heart is trying to pound right out of his chest. He moves forward, crowding Minseok back against the counter. He’s close enough now to feel the steam coming from Minseok’s mug, see himself reflected in Minseok’s eyes. Sehun’s grown a bit since spring break, won’t stop growing much to Minseok’s ire; now Minseok has to tilt his chin up to look him the eye. 

“What are you doing, Sehunnie?” Minseok asks, barely moving his lips. He seems frozen, trapped there between Sehun’s body and the counter. Warm air gusts over Sehun’s chin, and Sehun looks down at Minseok’s mouth, then up. His tongue darts out quickly, a habit borne out of nervousness, and Sehun can’t help but notice Minseok glancing down as well.

“Guess,” Sehun says, then closes the distance between them.

The kiss is wonderful for approximately two seconds; Minseok’s mouth is soft and warm underneath Sehun’s, and he tastes like green tea, and for half a delirious second, Sehun feels Minseok push back, his mouth moving a little to accommodate Sehun’s.

It must be wishful thinking because in the next second, the feeling is gone. Minseok pulls away, pushing gently out of Sehun’s grip.

“Sehun,” Minseok says softly. The lack of a pet name makes Sehun’s stomach turn to lead. “You can’t do that.”

“But, I’m—I like you, hyung,” Sehun blurts out. His head suddenly hurts. “I’ve always liked you, I might even lo—”

“You’re just a kid, Sehun,” Minseok says, gentle even as he’s breaking Sehun’s heart. “I don’t want you to mistake hero worship for love when you deserve something real.”

“You’re something real! It’s not just hero worship,” Sehun says, a little bit more desperate. There’s a distance growing between them, a chasm that Sehun watches bloom before his very eyes. He reaches out for Minseok’s wrist, the way he always does, but for the first time, Minseok moves away. “Hyung, Minseok-hyung, I’m eighteen. I’m adult, and I don’t want anyone else.”

“Sehun, stop,” Minseok says. He’s not harsh about it, but the words crack across Sehun’s face like an open palm. The hurt must show, because Minseok shifts uncomfortably, curling his hands around the mug like it’s a shield. “You’re not exactly in a state to be having this conversation,” he says. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?” Minseok is already backing up out of the kitchen.

“Promise,” Sehun says, demands.

“Promise,” Minseok says.)

 

 

“It’s been four years,” Sehun says. “I don’t know why you’d still be nervous.” Like Zitao didn’t have to practically shove him out the door. Like Lu Han hadn’t been the one to instigate this entire thing. Like his palms aren’t sweating as he leans against the side of the club, not caring if it’s too dirty.

“You were important to me,” Minseok says simply. “And I hurt you. Deliberately cut you out of my life for four years.” Sehun is suddenly fascinated with his shoelaces. “I wanted to tell you why, and I was hoping… I was hoping you could forgive me.”

“Why?” Sehun repeats incredulously. “I know why. You made it abundantly clear that night. I was a kid,” Sehun says, infusing the last word with as much bitterness and mockery as possible, anger welling up in him like poison. “Because I was a stupid kid who’d just turned eighteen, and you thought I didn’t know what I wanted.” And then, because he wants it to hurt, even though he doesn’t know who he wants to hurt, Sehun adds, “I always wanted you.”

Minseok is quiet for a second, then says, with an anger that surprises Sehun, “Did you?”

Sehun, taken off-guard, doesn’t have a chance to respond before Minseok’s crashing onwards: “Did you really want me, or did you just want the image of me that you built in your head? Kind, sweet, gentle, perfect Minseok who never loses his temper—I wasn’t a person to you, I was an ideal. A dream.

“And I was okay with it,” Minseok says, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I was okay with being a dream because what kid doesn’t like being idolized, even by a little kid. But I didn’t realize how far it’d gone until you kissed me—how far it’d gone for you, and for me. You were eighteen and convinced I was perfect for you, and I was twenty-two and drowning in medical school, and I wanted someone to tell me I was good at something, even if it was just being a dream.

“It was fucked up,” Minseok laughs humorlessly. “So I decided to give you some space and myself some time to think. Did I love you because I really did, or did I love you because I liked the way you thought about me, and the attention you gave me? It wouldn’t be fair to you if it was the second. I thought I was doing the right thing.

“Only I didn’t know how long to give you space, and then I enlisted, and it never felt like the right time to tell you.” Minseok shrugs and looks up at Sehun, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel. “Until now, I guess.” He huffs out a deep breath and lifts his chin, looking Sehun straight in the eye. He’s always been direct like that; Sehun had nearly forgotten.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Minseok says. “I’m sorry.”

The apology hangs like a curtain between them; Sehun feels like he can see the silhouette of someone familiar behind it, but he hasn’t got the nerve to check.

Not yet, anyway.

“Did you figure it out?” Sehun asks, after a long, tenuous silence. “If you really loved me.”

Minseok seems to deliberate this quite a while; Sehun’s about to vibrate out of his skin from expectation—because he’s loved Minseok, has always loved him, even now, especially now—when Minseok reaches over tentatively, taking Sehun’s wrist into his hand. He draws gentle, light fingertips over the back of Sehun’s hand—Minseok’s hands are calloused and tough, more than Sehun remembers—and then slots their fingers together. 

The curl of Minseok’s fingers around his feels comfortable, but new at the same time. Their hands fit together differently now than they did when they were younger; Sehun’s hand is bigger now, his fingers longer, and Minseok’s hand can’t quite wrap around Sehun’s anymore. It’s an imperfect fit, but it’s a fit nonetheless.

“Guess,” Minseok says.


End file.
